Two weeks after Liam adopted a hydra, the trio of ships was making excellent progress up the Yrendel river. With the Silver Hind in the tail, powering all three ships forward with wind. When his mana ran dry, the water magi plied their skills, pushing the ships forward with their powers, and finally getting their sweet revenge on the earth magi who had used them as batteries for oh so long.
“I feel like a squeezed canteen.” Muttered Owen, giving Velena a jealous look.
His redheaded compatriot smiled, and spared a wink for the old man, then returned to her place atop the hydra’s back. Occasionally rolling a fireball across the pseudodraon, like one might roll a yarn ball between a cat’s legs.
“I tried to live a just life before Taloc. Why would god send me to hades?” Said Owen.
“Cheer up old man, otherwise you’ll never see when the river widens. Once it does, twill be a few hours til we land.” Said Liam.
Captain Pigeon wiggled his grey mustachio, nodding once in affirmation.
“Indeed, never thought an elf could make us sail so swiftly. You wouldn’t happen to be in need of employment would you? Wind magic could revolutionize our fleets!”
“Ha, you can have him. Just keep an eye on the wort, he likes to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. Always running off and bringing flying serpents or hydras home and asking if we can keep it!” Owen retorted.
“I’m shocked and offended by such slanderous lies!” Said Liam, a smile spreading across his face. “I never ask!”
Owen threw up his hands, and Captain Pigeon let out a chuckle. Mirth once more spreading across the crew. Between Quetz and Liam and the handful of water magi, the travel time had been cut to one sixth the expectations. Due to a combination of suddenly having power to journey against the current, and an effectively endless supply of mana. Which was fortunate, because the hydra consumed more of the aetheric magic than it did fish or food. Though she always made space for freshly caught eels. A delicacy that seemed like the river’s main inhabitant, existing in numbers far surpassing any logical ability for the river to support, and in lengths that surpassed the boat’s! Twin markers of Pandora’s mettling hand. Yet they were all fodder for Quetz’s hunger, and he often made a show of electrocuting eels then swallowing them whole, or feeding them to the hydra, Karceia.
“Ah, can’t you smell it?” Liam asked.
The eldest paladin shot him a raised eyebrow. “All I smell is burnt shitte!”
“Exactly!” Said Liam.
It took a moment for Owen to realize what he meant, after all, there was a golden feathered snake swimming between three ships and a brilliant emerald hydra curled up in front of him. A duplex of spectacles that would confound most men. Owen’s eyes widened, and he dashed across the ship, throwing himself into the forward railing and seeing the wooden palisades of Sintra. Far more worn than he’d ever seen before, yet thicker than ever with bulwards of dirt and sandstone bricks piled high to plug the gaps.
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Liam couldn’t help but smile, watching Owen take stock of the city. He wanted to reminisce about it, but suddenly found himself unable to breathe, or see, as tears clouded his eyes. He was home. Rather, he had formally arrived in the lands of Greenwood, and the mercenary Portress of Sintra. Six naga sunned themselves on the docks, slithering into the nearby waters or onto the local rooftops to make way for the three galleons. Sails were tacked and trimmed, half furled as the warships coasted into the city. With armed men gathering on the docks to mirror the armored paladins on the prow. Even in Khereshetal’s darkest hour, when Calypso had petrified thousands and broke the nation’s will, when Duke Kheresh knelt in the desert sands for a week, he had not looked as worn as the Sintrans did now.
But their eyes shone with something Liam had not seen in all of Kheresh, nor in the dead city of Ashera Thorne, or within the boundaries of Talocandel. A look that had never dazzled Sirin’s eyes, nor filled the hard eyes of the umbraquins in his final battle as Baron Green. It was that infinitely resilient light of hope.
Every man seemed to be wounded in some way, with most missing arms or fingers, and certainly missing more than one tooth a piece. But most remarkable was the glow in their eyes. It seemed to declare with an exposed saber, that you might cut off their arms, hack off their legs, and even take their lives, but no one, not even the Arch Queen of humanity, Pandora, could deny them their hope.
His nose ran, and Liam found he had to sit as the tears flowed down his face. He was home, he could even see the inn he’d shared with Nyota, and the tower Rhendal had wove his machinations for Pandora’s defeat in secret.
A handkerchief dabbed his cheeks.
“Come now. We can’t let some backwood brigands see our Lightning Lord cry.” Whispered Velena.
Then she proceeded to smother Liam with the handkerchief, clearly unfamiliar with tender gestures. He had to roll sideways and leap off the boat to escape her rough mercies, laughing as wind snatched him from the jaws of a swim and carried him over the docks to land before the two scores of militia. Familiar faces greeted him, often accompanied by familiar gorgons. Thalya the bana viper, and Theia the greenest gorgon with blood red eyes, both looked down from perches atop houses, carrying longbows so similar to Phaedra’s own and the steel bows that outranged ballistae.
Liam didn’t trust his voice, so he said nothing. Simply beginning to heal his people. Fingers were regrown, eyes replaced, scars remodeled to allow the ligaments underneath to slide and move as they were always meant to. When his own healing mana ran dry, he drained a stave, then another, and another, until there were no more staves with healing mana.
“Owen, I’ll need your mana as well–”
‘Stop.’ Ordered Quetz, using their link. ‘Pace yourself you idiot. Look around! Rebuild the city, repair the wall and styme the suffering.’
“Damnit. Shitfucker!” Snapped Liam. spooking the men around him.
“Lord, Alhusam, are you alright?” Asked Velena, pushing the crowd back a pace.
“Yeah… It’s nothing. I’m just out of Healing mana. Taloc gives us bolts when we need bandages.” Liam said, smiling weakly to the man in front of him. “Healing will continue tomorrow, but for now, we must rebuild Sintra. Turn her into the same Palace I gifted the Lady Calypso. Owen! Call your magi, I expect a crystal palisade! Plug any gaps, and someone call Captain Jenkins!”
“Oi, no need to shout, cleared my ears of all cocks and hear ya loud and clear.” Said an unforgettable voice.